Waskish

By: Michelle Larson

In the morning you hear nothing

The only sounds that are heard are the birds

You wake up to the smell of crispy, greasy bacon

And eggs, sunny side up

Dads the chef here

Then we take the boat out

The water, like glass

It gets broken by the bow of the boat

We make the waves here

You put your line in

Your got a fish, I could do this all day

You go back to the dusty red cabin, grandma has lunch already made

Hot dogs on the grill

We sit around and tell our fishing stories

Grandpas fish always gets bigger and bigger by the minute

We spend our afternoons doing as we please

When night falls its time for a fire

We roast marshmallows, tell stories

Hoping that when you walk to go somewhere a bat doesn't fly in your hair

All of this happens at a little place called Waskish